What happens when what you were expecting starts to happen? What do you do when the baby in the manger starts to cry? When the friendship you prayed would grow finally buds?
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I can literally feel the chapter in this book coming to a close. I can read the pages I have been writing for four and a half years but find myself trying to manipulate the ending– praying it’s avoidable.
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I spent my night counting shooting stars 30,000 feet above the Mediterranean Sea. I couldn’t think of a better way to decompress and ponder the reasons and remember the people that brought me to this point.
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It’s not always audible, but when it happens, you know.
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Being more than seven thousand miles from “home” is challenging, sharpening and trying. But I can’t say I didn’t ask for it.
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The Arctic Blast sweeping the Nation has dipped into Florida and temperatures are unseasonably cold. My heart breaks for the homeless.
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The little things intrigue me when I take a moment to listen. Leaves on a tree can render me as silent as when I am being filled by the wise words of an elder.
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I am two things: a journalist and squeamish towards vulnerability.
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I have opinions and feelings and they bounce within me. I owe it to myself and those who love me to take to a keyboard or notepad and soar. Divulge.
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